


Reunion

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic, Emotional Baggage, Emotional confessions, Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Jealousy, M/M, Madi x Silver as friendly ex's, Masturbation, Polyamory, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Trust Issues, flirting who's flirting, hangovers, mention of canon typical violence, so much crying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-08 19:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10394310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: Thomas comes to the island and Silver finds himself in the position of having to convince Flint that he deserves happiness, even if it's with someone other than himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The war is over, everybody lived because this is fic. I needed it to exist.

The last hours of afternoon sunlight are dimming into gray as they walk the path side by side. Silver’s musing over whether there’s any salted cod left or whether they’ll have to make do with rice and beans. Flint’s barely listening, thinking more on afterwards when they'll go to bed and Silver’s voice is a golden light in the dark as they move together.

There’s a letter waiting when they reach the shack. Flint reaches the door first and stops dead at the sight of it.

The letter is addressed in writing he hasn’t seen in years. Flint stares at it. _James McGraw._ His throat is tight, he can’t breathe as he touches the name of the man he used to be. He opens it.

_James,_

_I know this seems impossible, but it’s true nonetheless. I live. I am here. Will you come? I’m at a cottage on the north shore._

_Yours, always_

_Thomas_

After all this time, this is beyond his wildest dreams. Flint had thought him dead for so long, and now this. He reads it three times until he can convince himself the words are real and even then he’s not sure he didn’t dream them.

“What is it?” Silver’s voice draws him back to reality. But this is all reality now. Thomas lives and his soul sings with the knowledge of this.

“He lives.” Flint whispers. “Thomas is alive.” He feels tears quicken in the corners of his eyes and looks away quickly before Silver can see them.

“Are you serious? That’s tremendous.” Silver clasps his shoulder.

And then Flint remembers all that he’s done, all that he’s become, what he’s lost and a shadow falls over his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“How can I face him? After I failed to do what we had planned? After I have become the very thing we set out to eradicate? After Miranda?” Any hope of reconciliation with the man he loves is impossible.

His shoulders shake faintly with the acceptance of that.

“You face him because you owe him that. Because you love him.”

The words make Flint flinch. “Don’t you want to see him again?” Silver asks. He doesn’t understand.

 “It’s not a matter of wanting to see him again.” Flint’s voice is rough with emotion. “Of _course_ I want to see him again. Don’t be a fool.”

He faces away from Silver. “I have become that which we intended to rid the world of, how can I look him in the eye and expect anything from him? After I left him there to wither away? How can he even want to see me?”

“Because he’s dreamt of it for as long as you have.” Silver says simply.

Flint just shakes his head.

“Are you really not going to go to him?” Silver stares at him.

“And what would I say?” Flint glares at him. He strides out of the shack, leaving Silver staring after him.

 *  *  *

Silver waits half an hour, but Flint doesn’t return. He doesn’t know where he’s gone, but he knows it’s not to Thomas as he should have gone.

Three days pass in this manner. Flint comes back to sleep in the shack, but he keeps his back turned to Silver and doesn’t reach for him. He leaves as soon as it’s light again. 

On the third night, Silver watches him draw on his coat and go out once more. He watches until Flint’s out of sight and then he sighs and reaches for his crutch. “Damnit.”

He lights a lantern and goes out.

*  *  *

There’s a lamp in the window of the cottage where Thomas Hamilton is staying. Silver pauses to look through the window.

Thomas is standing by the fireplace, gazing into the flames. He’s blonde and tall, very tall. Silver takes that in and lets himself picture Flint and this man side by side, before he banishes the thought.

Thomas looks up, an expectant expression on his face as the door opens. It fades as he sees it’s not the man he was hoping for.

“Forgive me, I was expecting someone else.”

“I know.” Silver hesitates, then steps inside and closes the door. “That’s why I’m here.”

There's confusion in Thomas's eyes but he waits for Silver to speak further.

“May I sit?” Silver asks politely.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Thomas looks faintly bewildered as this man who’s presented himself on his doorstep without any sort of explanation.

“A friend.” That’s not enough, but it will have to do. He should explain but he finds himself struck dumb in the presence of Thomas. Even now, years later, he can see why Flint was mesmerized from the man's stature to his eyes, he is breathtaking. “I came to talk about Flint, or rather, the man you know as James McGraw.”

Thomas’s expression narrows. “What do you know of him?” His hand tightens on the mantle. “Do you know where he is?”

“He’s on the island.” That’s enough for now. He trusts Flint won’t flee the island. But what if he did? God, that would be just dandy if Flint were to leave instead of taking the happiness he thinks he doesn’t deserve.

Thomas’s hand clenches the wood. “He is? So close, and yet.” He turns his head away, gazing into the flames. “I sent a letter with a messenger but if he knows I’m here, why hasn’t he…”

“I think you know.” Silver sets his crutch against the table.

“Very well.” Thomas turns and faces him, hands clasped behind back. “Tell me then what it is you think I know.”

“He’s terrified to face you.” Silver says bluntly. It goes against the grain to speak of Flint like this, to admit he’s scared of anything, when they’ve spent so long repairing his reputation, his legend. But to this man, that’s not necessary. He knows the man, not the legend.

Thomas’s brow furrows.

“Oh come. You must see it.” Silver leans forward, clasping his hands as he gazes at the man. “He left you to rot in a filthy asylum. For years he thought you had died there and he’s carried the weight of that guilt with him every day since.”

“You seem to know a fair amount about it.”

Silver shrugs. There are other words he could say, such as _I’m his lover too._ But for some reason he holds them back.

Thomas accepts this. He shakes his head as he stand there in front of Silver. “I told Miranda they were both to leave without me. It was never his fault, nor hers.”

“Try telling Flint that.” Silver’s lips crack a smile he doesn’t feel.

“I would tell James that,” Thomas counters. “If he would face me.”

“That’s the catch, isn’t it.” Silver rubs at his beard.

“Why did you come?”

“Because he’s missed you more than he will ever say.”

“How do you know that?” Thomas demands. He looks a trifle shaken as he gazes at Silver.

_Because I’ve been at his side, because I’ve been in his bed, because I know the depth and the breadth of his misery and darkness, and the full force of him throughout my body._

He doesn’t say that. That can wait for another day, or never at all. Thomas has returned beyond all hope and if Flint only accepts the miracle handed to him, then he will be the happiest man on earth.

What he and Silver have been to each other has no bearing on this reunion.

“Like I said,” Silver reaches for his crutch. “I’m his friend.” He rises to his feet. “I think he’ll come to you, eventually, but if he doesn’t you might have to go to him.”

“If I knew where he was, I would be there already.” Thomas murmurs.

Silver turns at the door to look at him. “I believe you would.” His heart clenches. He’s not jealous of this man. He wasn’t jealous of him in the past, and he’s not jealous of him now. But he knows that while James McGraw belonged heart and soul to this man, Flint belongs entirely to another world, and for a while, he belonged to Silver.

“Will you tell him that?” Thomas asks abruptly. “Tell him I want to see him?” He laughs a little. “It’s ridiculous to send such a message. How can he not know?”

“I’ll tell him,” Silver promises, over the hollow feeling in his gut.

*  *  *

He finds Flint on the bluff overlooking the shore as the night fades in over the sea. He’s just standing there, gazing at the dark waters below, hands clenched firmly at his sides.

Silver makes his way across the uneven earth towards him.

“I just need time.” Flint mutters when he acknowledges his presence. The fact that he’s speaking at all is a good sign in Silver’s estimation. There have been days when Flint doesn’t speak at all for the blackness swirling within him like a tempest, for the wretched depths of grief that consume him daily.

“You’ve had three days.” Silver points out. He takes a breath. “Besides, he wants to see you.”

Flint smiles that bitter excuse of a grin he wears these days. “Is that right?”

When Silver says nothing further Flint turns sharply to look at him. “What did you do?”

“I went and told him why you weren’t in his arms already.”

Flint grabs him by the jacket, hauling him close enough to kiss, but that’s not going to happen now and Silver knows it. “You did _what?_ ”

“I told him you were terrified, and that’s why you weren’t there already.”

Flint releases him, shoving him away hard. Silver stumbles, scrabbling at his crutch and failing. He falls to the ground with a grunt.

Flint’s turned back to the sea, ignoring him. “That wasn’t your place.”

“Oh, when were you going to go then?” Silver grabs for his crutch and braces himself against the ground as he pushes himself back up. “When you felt like it? When you thought you had tormented yourself enough to earn it?”

“It was _never_ your place.” Flint’s words are gutted, torn from wretched guilt, and suddenly Silver understands.

Flint thinks Thomas won’t understand why he had sought comfort elsewhere. That he would consider Flint had been unfaithful to him, to his memory. Surely he would understand. It had been so long, and Silver and he are so different together.

“You needn’t say anything.” Silver says. “I won’t say a word.”

He can hold his tongue when he needs to, and this will be one of those times.

Flint turns round to face him. “Do you think I’d hold that back?” His eyes scan Silver quickly, as though he can’t believe the man would ever make such a suggestion. “I didn’t keep secrets, I don’t keep secrets from him.”

There's a pause and then he drops his eyes. “That’s a lie. I kept many secrets.”

“What secrets did you keep?” Silver murmurs.

Flint’s shoulders shake with the strain of emotion long held back, barely released now. “How much I loved him. How happy he made me. How every moment I was in his presence, I was more alive than I had ever been. And every moment since, I’ve been in purgatory, a shell of a man who has no purpose to continue, but he lacks the design to lay down and breathe no more.”

It’s a curious thing to hear words that make your fingers tremble with happiness, while at the same time filling your soul with despair. Silver has never heard him speak like this. All the wondrous possibilities that lie within Flint are open to him in this moment and they are beautiful and mesmerizing and agonizing.

And they belong to Thomas Hamilton.

He grinds his fingers into fists at his sides to keep from reaching for that which is no longer his to hold.

“And then I met you.” Flint continues almost as though there has been no breathless pause between them. “And I breathed a little easier each day.”

Silver glances at him in surprise.

Flint squints at him for a second, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he ponders that statement. “Well, maybe not every day.”

Silver’s laugh is startled out of him.

Flint half smiles in relief, and then it’s gone again. “But it was not your place.”

The words are so quiet Silver’s not sure he spoke them at all.

“What was I supposed to do?” Silver says. “You weren’t going to him.”

“Just…let me be.” Flint’s hand drifts up to his brow to rub tiredly at the lines of weariness. “Let me be for now.”

“Go to him already and be done with it.” Silver turns away. Abruptly he’s fed up with the whole matter. Let Flint choose whether he’ll let himself be happy now or not. Flint’s right; it’s not Silver’s place.

Flint catches him by the arm and Silver freezes. He looks down at the hand clutching him, as though Flint were unable to let him go even if he chose.

And then Flint drops his hand. “Go then if you must.”

“If I must.” Silver repeats. “As though I have a choice.”

He stalks away over the sand, without looking back.

 *  *  *

He goes back to the shack where they spend their time on the island together. It’s empty, of course it’s empty. The man who usually fills it with his presence is still out on the bluffs. Silver hangs up the lantern and sits in the doorway watching the moon rise. The gulls are quiet. The waves lap peacefully at the distant shore.

He leans back against the doorway, stretching out his stump.

Flint will go to Thomas tonight. Silver knows it in his bones. And he’s glad in a way, even if his heart is traitorous and wishes somehow, he could have had one more night with Flint sleeping beside him.

He closes his eyes.

There’re footsteps on the sandy path and he opens his eyes quickly, reaching for his crutch to be at the ready. There are still men on this island who wish him and Flint harm, even if things have been more peaceful of late.

His hand stills when he sees it’s Flint on the path.

“What the devil are you doing here?” He pushes himself up but his balance off and he falls back against the door.

Flint’s there to steady him before he can do it himself, his hands strong and familiar on Silver’s shoulders.

“I’m going.”

Silver eyes him, waiting for whatever he's going to say.

“I’m going.” Flint repeats. “But I needed to see you, to speak with you before I went.” Almost of its own will his hand drifts up to clasp Silver’s face.  “To say…” His eyes rake Silver’s face, searching for him to understand whatever it was he’s trying to say, without actually saying it at all.

But just this once, Silver isn’t going to let him off the hook. “Flint.”

“Look,” Flint starts but then, behind them, there’s a quiet cough.

Flint sees it in Silver’s eyes before he even turns to see Thomas standing there on the path in the moonlight.

“Forgive me,” Thomas murmurs, his eyes on Flint. “I asked where to find you and here you are.” That’s all he says.

Flint’s hands drop from Silver’s body. Silver presses his back against the wooden frame of the door, doing his best to remain upright.

He shouldn’t be here for this moment. It shouldn’t be happening like this. He’s caught like a fly in a spider’s web, trapped and unable to move, forced to watch what’s happening around him with no hope of escape.

Flint’s just staring at Thomas as though he can’t believe it, as though it were the ghost of his lover standing there in front of him, a pale golden ghost in the moonlight.

“I read the letter that said you were alive.” His voice is a rasp. “It said it, it was written in your hand and I still didn’t quite let myself believe it.”

“James.” Thomas says. “I live. I’m here.”

He holds out his hand and Flint walks toward him in slow motion. When he touches Thomas’s hand with his fingertips Silver can feel the shock of it just from the way Flint’s body goes rigid.

“You’re real.” Flint murmurs.

Thomas’s face creases with affection. “I am.” He’s gazing at James for all he’s worth, but then his eyes flicker towards Silver over his shoulder.

Flint catches it. “I…”

“Is this why you haven’t come to me?” Thomas’s voice is gentle, understanding even.

He knows more than he should, and less than he thinks. He’ll never understand what it is between Flint and Silver. Silver’s thoughts are bitter in the silence before Flint speaks.

Flint’s hand reaches up to clasp his arm. “I had some matters to attend to. I was coming to you. I swear.”

“James, James.” Thomas soothes him. “I know.”

But how can he?

Silver reaches for his crutch. He can’t stay another moment. He clears his throat, watching the way they both start out of their barely touching embrace. “I’ll leave you the shack.”

“Don’t be a fool.” Flint says, the harshness automatic.

Thomas looks at him quizzically and Flint catches himself.

“I mean. You don’t have to go.” He turns. “We’ll go to the cottage.”

Thomas nods. “That’ll probably be for the best.”

“As you like.” Silver says. He goes inside the shack and closes the door, leaning against it. He can’t hear their footsteps as they walk away; he only knows they’re gone by the time he looks out the window.

The path is empty. The moon shines upon the sand and Silver blows out the lantern and lies on his pallet, painfully awake the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

The walk back to the cottage is peaceful in the moonlight, their boots brush across the sand in unison. James is silent beside him.

They haven't touched yet beyond that first embrace. Thomas is overly conscious of that, that and the man they left behind in that dark shack, who remains a mystery to him. He has an idea of the situation he has entered into, but he wants James to speak to him about it, to tell him everything. Anything. Just for him to speak.

He glances at the man beside him. James strides along deep in thought, holding himself at a measured pace.

"Is this all right?" Thomas asks once they're back inside the cottage.

Now that he has James here, he's nearly overwhelmed. He wants to take James in his arms, to hold this man he has spent years longing for and hoping to be reunited with. And yet here they are, behaving like strangers, standing halfway across the room from each other. Still not touching.

James nods silently. He stands there, looking around the cottage, and then finally back at Thomas.

"Let me look at you." Thomas murmurs.

James's face tightens. "I'm afraid you might not like what you see."

Thomas’s face crinkles in tender affection. "Can I be the judge of that?"

James shrugs and moves to stand directly in front of him. He's changed, of course he's changed over the years. There are new lines in his face, at his mouth and brow, but the familiar creases of his face are there as well. His beautiful hair is gone, cropped short, and the beard upon his cheek is intended to be severe, Thomas expects.

He laughs softly before he catches himself.

James looks down at himself quickly, seeking the reason. "What's so funny?"

"I simply never imagined you had kept a beard. That's all." Thomas murmurs. "All this time. Perhaps I should have."

"How did you picture me then?" James turns towards the fire.

"I pictured you happy. I _hoped_ you were happy." Thomas moves to stand beside him, gazing down at the flames. Perhaps it's too warm for a fire, but he finds it comforting. "I wanted you to be happy."

James's hand tightens on the mantle. "And did you picture me with someone? In those moments of happiness?"

"Sometimes." Thomas is honest, as always. “Before I learned of Miranda’s death.” He pauses, the painful weight of that heavy in his breast, “I had hoped you were happy together. Afterwards, I just hoped I’d find you.”

James just fixes him with that penetrating gaze he wears when he's still assessing the situation before he speaks.

"Is that why you didn't come right to me? The man there tonight?"

James's mouth curves into a semblance of a smile, pained and wry. “Partly that.” He looks hard into the flames.

"And the other part?" Thomas draws closer until their shoulders are neatly touching.

"The fear that you would detest me, at seeing what I've become." The words are so faint. "And hate me for my part in Miranda's death."

Thomas places a hand on his shoulder. "I could no more detest you than I could hate you." He brushes his hand up along James's face, watching the other man lean into it like a reflex. "And I have waited a very long time to tell you yet again how much I love you."  

A fierce shudder wracks James's body and then he turns his face inwardly, pressing his lips gently to Thomas's palm.

Thomas lets him kiss his way across the curve of his hand down to his wrist and then James looks up at him, his eyes dark and seeking. Thomas cups his face in his hands and draws his face up so that their mouths may reunite once more.

 *  *  *

It’s been too long; James moves too quickly, his need too great. Somehow Thomas is the patient one here, but James finds himself drowning in the wanting, the necessity to assure himself that Thomas is alive after all, alive and here within his grasp. His body trembles with repressed emotions, heavily borne all these years, and yet newly fragile with their reunion.

Thomas gasps, as he holds on to him, his hands sliding down James’s back. “James, James, it’s all right.”

James is weeping softly into the curve of Thomas’s shoulder as he eases from him. "I'm sorry."

“James. James.” Thomas strokes his back until he’s able to turn his head slightly and find his mouth to reassure him with a kiss. “Do not deny your grief. Release it. We are together now.”

“I thought I would never see you again.” James breathes into his skin. “I thought I had lost you.”

“I know.” Thomas’s fingers just rub gently along his back, soothing him. “I know, my love.”

The tender acknowledgement of his emotions threatens to bring forth still more anguish from the tormented depths of James’s heart, but somehow gazing at Thomas so peaceful and comforting beside him, he knows that it’s not necessary at this point. He has time, he has Thomas.

He takes up his hand and kisses Thomas’s palm, breathing in the scent of him.

“Come.” Thomas whispers. His hand sliding down James’s back. “Come back to me.”

James nestles his head into the crook of Thomas’s shoulder as he moves and the soft moan of appreciation stirs his desire once more. He grasps the headboard as they move, Thomas urging him onward.

They lock eyes as they finish in time with each other and this, oh how Thomas has missed _this,_ the look James gets in his eyes at this intimate moment. The bright-edged hunger and sharp passion spills out of him in this moment, shattering exquisitely into a hundred pieces and Thomas is there to gather the fragments and bind him back together in one brilliant motion.

When he eases out of Thomas James exhales quietly. They lie together in each other’s arms, content. James strokes his hair, his cheek, memorizing the feel of Thomas all over again.

Thomas smiles and brushes a kiss to the side of his cheek.

 *  *  *

In the early hours of the morning Flint wakes first. He sits there in bed for a moment, gazing at the sleeping figure beside him, still not quite able to accept that it’s true.

Then he draws on his breeches and reaches for a shirt and goes out to sit on the stoop to watch the dawn.

 *  *  *

Thomas finds him still sitting there as the sun shines down over the cottage. 

He stands in the doorway watching James. A still drawn figure alone in the sun. Then he moves forward to run his fingers lightly over James’s hair. Well, what’s left of it. In all honesty, he misses James’s hair.

James leans into the touch automatically. But his eyes are still on the distant waves. They hadn’t talked more last night beyond that initial conversation in bed and the subject of Silver had been left behind in the dark.

But now with the morning sunlight Thomas finds himself wondering more and more about the dark-haired man who’s been at James’s side these last few years. He feels strangely indebted to Silver to that, and for the fact that Silver had come to him when James had hesitated still. That alone would have endeared Silver to Thomas, but the fact that Silver had somehow won a place in James’s affections in spite of the fortress James had built up around himself is incredibly impressive. A man who could accomplish that is worth knowing indeed.

James stirs finally. “I have a few items of business to attend to, but I should be finished by early afternoon.”

“Is that so?” Thomas says, slightly amused. “May we have a cup of tea and some breakfast together before you set out?”

“Of course.” James looks up at him in surprise, and then his mouth curves into a smile, the closest to the ones that Thomas remembers. The sort of smile James used to give him at the very beginning, before they had ever even kissed, when he thought Thomas didn’t see the look in his eyes.

Thomas leans down and brushes a kiss across his upturned mouth. “Come, I’ll make the tea.”

 *  *  *

When James finally sets off, he hesitates at the gate. Thomas watches, he knows his own plans for the day and frankly he’s relieved when James finally turns in the opposite direction from the path that would lead him back to the shack.

After a second cup of a tea Thomas dons his hat and goes down that same path. The sunlight shines bright above him and his head feels light and free without a wig, even under the drab brown hat he wears these days.

He has always appreciated the sunshine but now, after being shut away for so long a time he cherishes it.

There’s a faint surge of trepidation as Thomas approaches the shack, but mostly he feels the anticipation in his step, the curiosity kindled in his breast at the thought of speaking with Silver again.

He finds the man in question sprawled on the sand outside the shack, his head reclining back against the steps, a half empty bottle of rum beside him. Silver’s dressed, if you can call it that with his shirt half open and loose at the chest, his breeches obscenely low on his hips, low enough that Thomas can see the start of dark hair leading downwards to his groin. His right foot is bare, and the leg that Thomas had observed previously as being false is set to one side. His eyes are closed and frankly, he’s snoring just a slight drone in the morning stillness.

Thomas approaches quietly and stands there a moment before speaking. “Good morning.”

Silver opens his eyes. “Ah, it's you.” He licks dry lips and then gestures faintly with his fingers. “Apologies for not receiving you in the parlor.”

“That’s quite all right.” Thomas takes this as leave to remove his hat and take a seat upon the sand beside him.

Silver looks over at him after a moment. “If I had just been reunited with Flint I’d have stayed in bed for a month.”

Thomas’s smile is faint, but there. “It wasn’t my suggestion to leave it this morning.”

“Is that right?”

“He was up before the dawn.” Thomas says.

“Was he…” Silver pushes himself up into a more upright position.

“He said he had some business matters to attend to this morning.” Thomas watches his face and truthfully, he’s not surprised when Silver lets out a snort of derision.

“Right.”

“You think he’s not out on business?”

“I think he has some matters to attend to all right.” Silver says at last. “I don’t know what they are. They’re not with me if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“It had crossed my mind.” Thomas admits. “But I like to think he would have told me if that were the case.”

“He would.” Silver confirms. “But it’s more likely that he won’t tell you, because he won’t come to me.”

He catches himself half a breath too late, because he’d never intended to admit that aloud, and especially not to Thomas Hamilton.

He offers up a charmingly rueful smile, the sort that would have had Flint wincing at him in the early days and earned a quiet laugh later on. “I’m sorry, you may have ascertained that I am less than sober at the moment.”

“Would you have refrained from saying that if you had been?” Thomas asks, curious.

“I meant to be more civil to you.” Silver mutters.

“You’re not being uncivil.” Thomas points out, smiling slightly. He looks out along the tree line and the wavy blue depths beyond. “Why do you think he won’t come to you?”

“I didn’t say he definitely wouldn’t, just that he would tell you if did.” Silver trails off. “But he won’t, he sees it as a matter of trust, and betrayal.” Christ, he’s talking too much.

“How so?”

“You’re alive.” Silver’s bluntness has no sting, no malice. He’s simply stating facts. He swallows down the bile in his throat. God, Flint would skin him alive if he could hear him now. He’d never meant to say any of this, never meant to even admit it’s true.

But Thomas is surprisingly easy to talk to, sitting here in the sun. If only the sun weren’t so damned bright. Silver pushes himself up so that he’s got his back against the wall of the shack in the shade. He licks his lips again and wishes for a sip of water, or more rum, anything.

He thinks about getting up to fetch something, but the energy it would take is beyond him.

“Is there something I can get you?” Thomas inquires.

“There’s water inside.” Silver mutters. He doesn’t want to ask, but Thomas is already on his feet.

While he's gone, Silver looks down at himself and sees the disarray his clothes are in. He dimly remembers starting to masturbate last night before giving up and falling asleep. He draws his breeches up slightly, but leaves his shirt open. 

Thomas returns with fresh water in one of their two tin cups. He would have found them hanging on the hook over the water bucket and Silver wonders, what he thought of the sparsely furnished shack. The bed big enough for two, with their worn, red coverlet stretched out upon it. Flint’s sword hanging on the wall. His books on the shelves. The parts of their life together all laid out in plain sight. 

What does Thomas make of any of this?

Silver drinks in silence while Thomas sits beside him once more.

“Thank you.” Silver sets the cup aside. His head’s a little clearer now, but he knows now how much he’s already revealed.

“Why did you come?” As long as he’s speaking bluntly, he might as well ask.

Thomas reflects. “I wanted to get to know more of you. Is that so strange?” It’s evident that James has spoken of their past life together with Silver, from the things Silver said the night he came to the cottage. But how much does he really know?

“What is there to know?” Silver shrugs. “I’m a liar, a thief, a cook,” his lips turn upward slightly as though privately amused over that one, “and a pirate. I’ve gotten by on luck and skills thus far in life, and at some point one of those will no doubt run out.”

He falls silent before he looks up directly at Thomas. His eyes are bright and blue and Thomas sees the appeal there, the charm, the inner spirit, the hidden depths lurking within this man.

“I’ve been extraordinarily lucky to have known him.” That’s as much as Silver can bring himself to say, and too much already to have spoken.

Thomas hesitates as though he’s about to say something in return, and then instead he rises. “I’m afraid I must be going.”

Silver nods. What else is there really to say? He’s said too much already. The thought of it nearly chokes him as Thomas says farewell and starts to go.

 “Please don’t tell him what I said.”

Thomas turns back. “Why do you ask that?”

“If he knew I had spoken of any of this to you…” Silver shakes his head.

Thomas’s eyes crinkle in confusion. “Why do you doubt he would understand?”

“Because the man you knew and the man I know are very different in spite of their similarities.” Silver says a tad sharply, and then just as quickly his ire fades. “I’m sorry. I just…” ' _can’t bear for him to know how utterly pathetic I am.'_ Flint doesn't need to know that, not today. Not ever.

Thomas studies his face a moment. "Very well." He says at last. “I won’t tell him.”

“Thank you.” Silver mutters.

Once Thomas is gone, he drags himself inside and lies upon the bed, breathing in the scent of Flint and himself mingled together on the pillows until he drifts off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

 Silver can’t stay at the shack after that. He’s filled with the fear that Flint will learn all that he has said, not for fear that Thomas will tell him, no. Somehow he trusts Thomas will keep his word. No, he’s simply afraid Flint will somehow just _know_ and obliterate him for revealing such embarrassing depths.

He grabs his crutch and makes the hot tiring trek into town, cursing the sunlight and his aching head. He makes his way to the newly rebuilt governor’s house, only to be halted at the door.

“What is your business with her?” The guard demands.

“She would want to speak with me.” Silver growls. He has no patience or inclination to be charming today. After everything he’s done, everything they’ve done, he still knows that is true. “Ask her if you don’t believe me.”

The guard eyes him suspiciously, but at last he sends a boy to check. When the boy comes back and gives him a nod, Silver can’t help giving the guard a smug look as he passes through the gate. The legends Billy built up around him are fading, but he will still use what currency he has as long as he can.

 *  *  *

He finds Madi in her study, gazing at the wide map stretched over the table. She looks completely at home amongst the governor's things and he loves seeing that, even as he's jealous of her assurance, her confidence in what she's doing. Silver's never had the certainty in his life.

“Well, what brings you to my door today, John Silver?” She asks without looking up.

“Could I not have come to simply ask how you are faring?” He asks nonchalantly.

“You could.” Madi agrees, her mouth twitching faintly with amusement. “But I doubt it. Not unless you wanted something else as well.”

She raises her eyes then and gives him a steady, appraising look. “But I don’t think I have what you’re in want of.”

Silver concedes that might be true.

After the battles, after everything, they had simply drifted further and further apart. He’d been tending his own wounds, and helping keep Flint afloat in a sea of grief. It had consumed his hours and he knows it. Madi had had her own days filled with the appointment of governorship after the removal of Woodes Rogers, learning the laws and routines of the island and putting new ones in place, rebuilding Nassau and helping it begin again. 

When Silver had been there, he’d helped where she needed it, but more often than not, she had had no need of him. They weren’t meant for each other, not in the end, and slowly they had both come to accept this. Madi had begun to keep to her own bed and slowly Silver had admitted to himself it was just as well. It did no good to spend your nights in the arms of one, when your thoughts were filled with another.

He feels a moment of gratitude that he can still come to her door and she’ll speak to him. He’s had lovers in the past who would have slammed the door in his face at the sight of him. Not one of them holds a candle to Madi Scott.

Madi gives him a look, then sighs. “Sit down.” She sends one of her men to bring fruit and cheese while she pours them each a glass of sweet wine. She holds one out to Silver. “Tell me then, what brings that sour look to your lips?”

Silver grimaces. “What makes you automatically assume something is wrong?” He'd come here for distraction, not to further embarrass himself. At least, that’s what he had thought.

Madi takes a sip of wine. “I heard that Thomas Hamilton has come to the island.”

Silver’s gut tightens. “Your sources do you credit.”

“It’s true then.” Her eyes soften and he has to look away. “You had to know if this day came…” Madi’s words fade as Silver raises his eyes to her face and she sees the agony there. “John.”

“You can’t lose what isn’t yours.” Silver says as much to himself as to her.

“Yet people do exactly that all the time.” Madi points out.

He shrugs and takes a sip of wine. It soothes the ache in his head, if not his heart, so he drains it and reaches for the pitcher to pour more.

“What will you do?”

“What can I do?” He looks wearily at his cup. “I can’t ask him to stay, not when I know this is what’s been in his mind, in his heart, all these years. He has a chance to be content, at peace, Madi. I couldn’t… I’m not that selfish a bastard, not anymore. Once I would have lied to keep him, done anything, but not now.” He’s confessing even if he had no intentions of doing so, his misery trickling out of him like a leak in a dam.

“Are you sure you know what Flint wants?” Madi asks after a moment.

“I don’t have to ask.” Silver says tiredly. “All you have to do is look at him. You should have seen his face when he saw Thomas.” _You should have seen how they touched._ He will never forget that sight as long as he lives.

“Sometimes a person’s face only tells part of the story.” She says quietly. “You should speak with Flint.”

Silver offers a low laugh. “I won’t lay myself bare merely to be ridiculed.”

Madi gives him a level stare. “Then you’ll never be happy, John.”

He winces.

She reaches over and takes his hand. There’s comfort in the touch, even if he doesn’t want to believe her words.

Madi lets him stay in the cool shade of her study for the rest of the day, letting no one disturb him as he drinks himself into another stupor.

 *  *  *

James stirs in Thomas’s arms. He'd returned to the house in the late afternoon and Thomas had simply drawn him back down upon the bed.

Now his mind is lazy with contentment, fingers drifting over Thomas’s skin. He could stay here in this moment, in this bed with this man forever. He doesn’t care that the afternoon is fading. Time doesn’t matter now. The hours of the day are no longer something to merely be gotten through.

Thomas shifts a little, pressing a drowsy kiss to his shoulder.

At last James moves to sit up. He pulls on his linen drawers and goes out to piss and when he comes back Thomas is making tea, wearing his shirt and nothing else, leaving him bare to the thighs.

Flint looks down at his hands. They appear steady enough. His stream of piss seemed real enough. He can smell the tea from here. None of this is apparently a dream.

He looks up to find Thomas smiling at him.

“That letter you sent.” James hesitates. “How did you find me?” He wants to know how Thomas knew he was Flint, what he thought of that when he heard it, but he can’t bring himself to ask that, not just yet.

“I asked where I could find Captain Flint.” Thomas pours the tea and watches the steam drift over the cups. “I had ascertained that he was the man I was looking for when I landed on Nassau.”

Hearing that name on Thomas’s lips does something to James. His limbs feel curiously weak so he moves forward to sit at the table, grateful for the chair’s support.

“And what did they say when you were looking for me?”

“They said I would find you at that shack near the bluff.” Thomas sets a cup of tea before him and takes the other over to his chair.

“And what else did they say?”

“That you were a fearsome pirate, who had started and ended a war and now was half retired, half not, living somewhat in seclusion these days.” _With another pirate_ …some of them had said. Thomas doesn’t mention that part.

James nods, brushing at his chin with his thumb. “It’s not inaccurate.”

Ten years lying still between them. All the things Flint has done. Does it truly not matter? He wants to speak of things with Thomas, but uncertain of where to start, how to even begin to fill the gaps.

“And Miranda…” He says at last.

Thomas looks down. “I learned of her death, but not yours, which gave me hope that you were still alive.”

“I’m sorry,” James whispers. “I should have kept her safe.”

Thomas reaches over and takes his hand. “I know you did everything you could.”

James swallows over the lump in his throat and brings Thomas’s hand up to his lips. “I miss her so much.” He murmurs.

Thomas rises and goes to kneel beside him, cradling him to his chest. “I know, my love. I do too.”

James had thought he was done weeping, but this admission of shared grief brings tears afresh and he presses his forehead into the crook of Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas murmurs soothing words, stroking his back until finally his eyes are dry once more.

Thomas cups his face and kisses him. “She would want us to be happy.” His eyes search James’s face, seeking a sign that James is listening. “I know that in my heart.”

“I know.” James’s voice is faint. He believes that too, but some days it doesn’t make her absence any easier to bear.

At last Thomas rises, with a brush of his lips over James’s head, to make more tea. He has his back to James when he says, “Tell me of him.”

“What?”

“John Silver.”

James looks away. He knew this was coming, but he’s still not ready for it.

“It’s…He's...” he pauses, wets his lips, tries again. “He was part of my life.” _Is_ , his heart whispers, _he is part of your life. You can’t escape that, no matter how much you lie to yourself._

“Was?” Thomas says carefully. He turns back to the table, to face James.

“Things have changed.”

“I’m not denying that, but…”

“But what?” James rises to his feet.  “Besides, he knows how much you meant...” He catches the past tense, what a curious thing to no longer exist, “ _mean_ to me. He knows the partnership he and I has to end.” The wrench in his side is nothing to do with the words he’s spoken, merely an old wound that still troubles him from time to time. He presses a hand to it out of habit, but it doesn’t stop the ache residing there.

“Does he?”

 “What?”

“It’s simply that…” Thomas begins. “You haven't discussed any of this with him. He merely thinks that you won’t go to him now.”

James frowns. “You’ve been talking to him?”

“I went to see him earlier.” Thomas says after a moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” James moves away to stand in the doorway, half ready to leave the cottage and go find Silver, shake him till his teeth rattle and demand to know what he’d said to Thomas. His hand curls into a fist at the thought of all that Silver could say.

“James.” Thomas’s voice holds a warning note. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing…”

James doesn’t acknowledge his words.

“If you’re going to Silver and planning on confronting him with this, because of what I said, I forbid you to do it.”

At that James turns back and just stares at him incredulously. “You _forbid_ me to do it?”

“I’m sorry.” Thomas says apologetically. “I don’t know where that came from. Old habit I suppose, when you were a lieutenant and I was a lord, and I just wanted to make you listen.”

James wants to laugh. “Have you forgotten that I’m a feared pirate captain?”

Thomas tilts his head and looks at him consideringly. “I have not forgotten. But I thought that was half the problem here. You don’t wish to speak of that life.”

“Well, it’s damn hard not to with you and Silver trading conversations back and forth across the island like you’ve done it all your life.” James explodes.

That’s his fear. That Thomas will learn of his past from someone else, and Silver, goddamn him, he knows so much of it. All those dark secrets, all the shadows that James would prefer to leave undisturbed. Silver could rake them up with one stir of his crutch.

Thomas studies him. “You’re afraid.”

“I…yes.” James admits. Of course he’s afraid. Any sensible man would be afraid in his shoes. He could lose Thomas all over again.

“Of what I will learn?” Thomas comes closer. “Then tell me. There is nothing you could tell me that would change the way I feel about you.”

“Nothing.” James repeats, his heart leaden in his chest. _And what will you say when you learn it was me that slaughtered your father? What will you say then?_

“I’m not saying it won’t give me pause, I’m not saying I will condone your actions, but I love you, James. I love _you_.”

James gazes at him for a long moment, wanting to let himself reach out and take hold of the reassurance Thomas is offering, but he can’t. Not yet. Not until he has to talk to Silver.

“Time will tell, I suppose.” He pulls on his boots and grabs his shirt and belt, heading for the door. “I’ll…return later.”

Thomas grips the back of his chair and sighs. In this moment he has a strange flash of sympathy for John Silver.

 *  *  *

It’s mid-evening when Silver goes home. He lights the lantern, dispelling the quiet darkness in the room. He goes to fetch a bucket of water from the well to quell his headache, only to find another one waiting on the stoop of the shack when he returns.

Flint glares at him. “You said you wouldn’t say anything.”

“As it so happens, I’ve been remarkably silent on the subject.” Silver hesitates, wary of whatever's coming next. When Flint doesn’t make a move, he starts past him.

Flint reaches out and takes the bucket from him without a word, carrying it into the shack.

“Why are you here?”

Flint sets the bucket down. “Thomas said he spoke to you.”

“That’s true.”

Flint strokes at his beard, brooding, looking anywhere but at Silver. “And what did you say?”

“I said you liked to bend me in half and fuck me till I screamed your name.”

Flint’s head jerks up and stares at him, his eyes hot with anger. His fingers curl tightly into fists.

Silver swallows carefully. “I didn’t say that. I just wanted you to look at me.”

“I _am_ looking at you.” From the sound of it Flint doesn’t much care for what he sees.

“And what do you see?” Silver challenges, moving forward. “Do you see something from your past that needs to be shut away, unacknowledged?” _Something to be denied and forgotten like it never existed?_

“What do you expect me to say?” Flint shouts. “I never expected this to happen. I never dreamed it could, and now…he’s here.” His face softens, just from thinking about Thomas.

Silver looks away.

“And you’re _here_ , and I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.” Flint finishes. He sounds so genuinely lost that Silver turns back, startled.

“I gave you my word that I wouldn’t say anything. I’ll keep that. As long as you wish.” He hesitates, and then he places a careful hand on Flint’s shoulder.

Flint tenses and he removes it immediately.

“You must have said something.” Flint retreats into brusqueness.

Silver stares at him. “Are you shitting me? Does my word mean nothing to you? After everything.” He shakes his head, biting his lip. “I didn’t say a damn thing about us fucking.”

“Then how…” Flint trails off.

“He’s not a fool, you idiot.” Silver says. “You were living here with me, what did you suppose he thought?”

“I didn’t suppose he’d think anything of it at all.” Flint’s words are cruel; his eyes dark as the sea.

It’s Silver’s turn to not look at him. “Well then.”

“I can’t…” Flint says and then stops. “I’m holding you to your word.”

“And if he asks me?” Silver raises his eyes then. “What am I to say then?”

“You gave me your word.” Is all Flint says and then he’s gone.

 *  *  *

Silver dunks his head in the bucket of water and lets it cool his head.

He knows, somehow, with utter certainty that Thomas Hamilton will come to speak with him again, even if Flint never darkens his door again. It’s a funny thing, certainty, simply knowing a thing will happen is in no way reassuring. Silver lies on their bed, his bed now, he supposes, and thinks of Flint.

His hand drifts lower, slipping inside his breeches. Flint and the first time they fucked, sweaty and raw and rough. Flint in the early morning, a warm weight alongside his back. Flint shaking him awake when he dreams again of the day his leg was cut off. Flint gripping his hips as he has Silver ride his cock, his eyes on Silver's face with a faraway expression.

Silver groans at the friction, taking his hand out to spit onto his palm and returns to where he was.

He has a hundred memories of Flint to fuel his desire, but as Silver thinks of him, he can’t stop picturing the way Flint looked when he saw Thomas again, when he touched him, that jolt of lightning so vivid that Silver could have felt it himself. His hand moves faster, thinking of how Flint had looked at Thomas, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered, the only thing that existed.

His cock jerks once, twice, three times, coming quickly in his palm and goes still. Silver pulls his hand out of his breeches, wiping it on the blankets, and lifting his arms to rest above his head with a sigh.

 *  *  *

He’s proven right when Thomas returns the following morning.

“Is this going to be a habit?” Silver inquires. He inclines his head towards the stoop next to him.

“To be quite truthful, I don’t know.” Thomas admits as he sits down. “You appear more sober today.”

“For the most part.” Silver hesitates. “We could speak of the weather, I suppose, but that would be a waste of conversation since we both know what we want to discuss. He knows we spoke.”

 “I assumed that’s where he went last night.” Thomas clasps his hands around one knee. “Does he do this sort of thing often? Show up, speak his mind and then vanish.”

“Not as much these days, honestly.” Silver says absently. “He used to be more like that in the beginning.”

“When you first started to sail together?”

“No, when we…” Silver cuts himself off. As far as he can tell Thomas still doesn’t know for certain that he and Flint have shared a bed, but he’s not an idiot. He has to know something, has to have an inkling of what’s happened in the bed inside the shack.

But Silver’s not going to be the one who tells him.

“Why are you here?” Silver asks. It’s beginning to be the mainstay in most of the conversations he has these days. He can’t say that he cares for it.

“I don’t know what to do in these mornings when he’s just gone. I’ve not ventured into town too much yet.”

“I imagine Flint’s thrilled with that.” There’s a perverse part of Silver that enjoys calling him that still.

“I don’t believe he knows.” Thomas muses. “We haven’t discussed Nassau much as yet.”

“Jesus, the pair of you.” Silver shakes his head. When he looks up again Thomas is watching him and if he thought it was uncomfortable being under the scrutiny of James Flint, Thomas Hamilton’s gaze is something else altogether.

“If I wanted to ask you about your time with Flint.” Thomas says quietly. “Would I get an answer?”

“Depends on the question I suppose.” Silver says, watching the breeze ruffle the trees, thinking on how Flint’s name sounds on Thomas’s lips.

“Was he happy?”

At that Silver grows still. He takes so long to answer, he’s not sure if he’s even going to. Thomas waits, and waits, listening to the birds in the trees.

“I don’t know.” Silver says at last. “I like to think he was relatively less….melancholy in the last year or so, but I truly don’t know.”

He looks disconsolate at the thought that Thomas leans in, touching him gently on the knee. “I’m sure he was.”

Silver looks at him, looks at his hand and then up at Thomas.

“Tell me this then, is he happy now?”

“Yes.” Thomas says. “And somewhat, no.” His eyes rest on Silver’s face, waiting for him to speak, to say something more, to answer the unspoken question there. But Silver gave Flint his word and he won’t break that, not even under the blue-eyed gaze of Thomas Hamilton.

“Sounds like you two should talk more.” He says gruffly.

“I don’t want to press him.” Thomas says. “Would you come to dinner?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I thought it might help if he could just somehow see that we can both exist in the same space, maybe he can accept that.”

“I think he’d have a fit.” Silver says frankly. The idea is horrifying, but at the same time he admires Thomas for having it. It’s intriguing too, in the way that a house on fire is impossible to look away from, the roaring flames, the heat drawing you in, watching the flames leap higher and higher until you’re not sure whether it’s beautiful or terrible or both. Silver watched a house in London burn when he was a youth; the sight stayed with him for days.

“Would you even want to do that?” He asks.

“I said I don’t want to press him, but this limbo we’re in… we need to decide what we’re going to do next, where we’re going to live, where we’re going to go.”

Silver’s throat constricts. He’d thought Flint being on the island with Thomas would be bad enough, but gone completely? Away from Nassau altogether? He hadn’t thought of that and he should have.

“Is that feasible, or safe even?”

Thomas shrugs lightly. “My father’s title and money reverted to me after his death. We could go anywhere…”

“What?” Silver glances at him sharply.

“I assume James has told you of how we came to be parted.” Thomas hesitates. “My father died a few years after that, and sometime after his death, I was allowed to be released from the asylum, having passed their examination and found sane.” His mouth twists and whatever memory is passing through his mind, Silver doesn’t want to know.

“But he thought you were dead.” That’s what Silver can’t get past. All this time Flint thought Thomas was dead.

“My father thought that was easier. The understandable fiction of a dead son, rather than a scandalous one, in an asylum because of…”

“He never would have…” Silver breathes.

 _He never would have fucking looked at me_ , he wants to scream at the sky, at Thomas _. If he had known you were still alive, he never would have fucking touched me._

Thomas rises. “I best be on my way, but I just wanted to tell you... when I told James that we'd spoken.” Thomas hesitates. "I didn't tell him precisely what you said, just that you didn’t think he’d come to you."

"I asked you not to!" Silver snarls. His face is heated at the thought of Flint knowing what he said, how he feels.

"It was in return for that first night when you came to me." Thomas says quietly. “I thought he should know, the same as you thought I deserved to.”

Silver quiets. He hadn't thought of it like that; he hadn't put himself in the same category as Thomas and Flint. He wouldn’t have dared. It’s not the same thing at all. Is it?

He sits there staring at the sand until Thomas is gone.

*  *  *

That night Silver goes out to the bluff. He needs peace. He needs distraction. He needs something. And he can’t find it in the shack where the lonely bed mocks him and the four small worn walls are so empty without Flint within them.

Silver stops when he sees a familiar figure standing there, one boot planted firmly in front of the other, arms crossed over his chest as he gazes out to sea.

“There are plenty of places on this island where you could go and stare at the sea.” Silver mutters under his breath. “Places closer to your damn cottage.”

“I like this one.” Flint murmurs.

Silver makes a rude gesture at the back of his head. It’s small satisfaction since Flint doesn’t see it.

They stand beside each other in the dark, watching the waves as the wind sails round the bluff.

“Earlier you said...you think I don’t want to acknowledge you.” Flint says finally.

Silver sighs. “It’s not that simple. Or perhaps it is. I just meant…He's alive, damn it." Silver runs a hand through his hair. What does any of it matter? That's what it comes down to. Thomas Hamilton is alive and Flint should be with him and that’s all there is to it.

"What?” Flint turns to look at him.

"I mean that you don't have to say anything. I know you've made your choice." Silver keeps his face turned away.

"Silver." Flint halts there, because how can he explain?

“Please just go.” Silver’s heart is leaden in his chest. He wants to be alone. He wants things he can’t have and if he can’t have them, solitude is preferable.

Flint stares at him and then stalks away through the grass waving in the night breeze.

Silver stands there, waiting for the trembling in his hands to pass. He's not sure he can live peacefully on an island with Flint only a few miles away in another man's bed. He's not that generous. He’s not sure he can stay on this island without Flint.

So he'll set sail and he’ll stay far away until he manages to fill this emptiness within him with something else. Except there’s nothing in the world that can compare to this, and Silver already knows that.


	4. Chapter 4

 There’s a relentless pounding in his head. Silver opens one eye very slowly. The sun is shining brighter than gold and the pounding is still there.

He rolls over on his stomach and buries his face in his pillow. The pounding still doesn’t stop.

Silver pushes himself up and stares blearily around the room. It takes him a moment to realize it’s not just his head. There’s someone rapping at the door of the shack. Someone he has every intention of killing so he can go back to bed and die in peace and quiet like he’s meant to.

Silver drags himself out of bed, grabs his crutch and slowly makes his way over to the door. He yanks it open and glares at the offending person who dared to knock on his door at this ungodly time of day.

“What?” He barks, wincing at the volume of his own voice.

“Ah, my sincere apologies for disturbing you.” Thomas smiles at him. “Good afternoon.”

Afternoon. He must have slept the morning away. Silver doesn’t even care, but the way Thomas is looking at him…he finds himself wanting to apologize for being slothful or some such ridiculousness. God, Silver wants to hate him. He almost does with this headache.

He just turns around and makes his way back to the bed where he sits down with a thump. “What do you want?” Today he doesn’t feel up to civility. Not after yesterday’s conversation with Flint. Not after last night.

 His head starts throbbing worse and he grinds the heel of his palm again his eye in an effort to make it stop.

“Are you all right?”

Silver closes his eyes against the genuine concern in Thomas’s voice. This is hell. He’s in hell. Hell is being hungover and heartsick and yet kindly treated by a man he has every reason in the world to hate and yet he can’t.

“My head is throbbing and your knocking just aggravated it.” He mutters, rubbing at his temples. “I’m sorry, did I miss the reason for your presence?”

“I had a question.” Thomas begins. He’s looking around the shack with open curiosity, and Silver can’t help wondering what he makes of it.

Thomas doesn’t know that the spot in the roof where there’s a long board nailed over an old leak is Flint’s work. He fixed it after Silver complained of the endless puddles during a rainy day. He had mended the front stoop when it was broken in a fight as well. All those carpentry skills that Flint had apparently possessed and put to use when they were needed. But it was Silver who had acquired the blue swath of cloth to hang over the window when they needed a curtain and he knew that the blue would remind Flint of the sea and soothe him. It had been Flint though who had said they needed a bed big enough for both of them and then insisted on demonstrating exactly why that was.

Silver swallows tightly, gripping the handle of his crutch. The bed is what gives it away. It’s clearly meant for two people, and it takes up a fair amount of room in the small shack.

Thomas is still looking around, and saying nothing.

“Well?” Silver asks irritably. This is his home. It was his and Flint’s until a few days ago and now he’s all alone in a bed that’s too big for just him.

“I was wondering if you would accompany me into town.” Thomas asks. “I would like to see more of Nassau and I thought you might enjoy the outing.”

Silver stares at him incredulously. “The fuck did you just ask me? Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you ask me to go with you?”

“Because I would enjoy your company.”  Thomas says.

Silver just stares at him. He has no words for how those words make him feel. How uncertain he is of what he’s supposed to feel here.

“All right.” He says at last. “Just...give me a few minutes.”

Thomas nods, and then asks as almost an afterthought. “Do those few minutes include getting yourself dressed?”

Silver pauses, and then looks down. He’s wearing his drawers and nothing else. They cover him from his lean hips to his thighs and that’s it. They’re worn to the point that he might as well be wearing nothing at all. For a second he considers just how much of himself is very obviously on display and then looks back up at Thomas.

“Yes.” He says. “They do.”

There’s a slight smile at Thomas’s mouth. “Good. I’ll wait outside then.” He reaches for the door. “Unless you want some help getting dressed?”

Silver looks up sharply, but Thomas’s expression is innocent enough. “Thank you, but I can manage.” He says.

“Very well, I’ll be outside then.” Thomas gives him a nod and goes.

*  *  *

They walk into town side by side. Thomas keeps his pace even but not too fast, and Silver is aware of it, but doesn’t say anything. There’s only so much consideration he can take from the man.

“It’s a beautiful island.” Thomas murmurs. “I always thought it would be.”

“Is it like what you’d expected?” Silver asks. Flint had told him of Thomas’s plan all those years ago, and he wonders what it’s like to be here finally after all that expectation had come to naught.

“No.” Thomas answers finally. “James did his best to prepare me of what it was like, but nothing could have truly prepared me for this.”

They walk slowly through the streets, Silver showing him various points of interest, telling him of how things have changed since Madi’s become governor. He can’t keep the pride from his voice.

“Madi Scott.” Thomas repeats. “She sounds a formidable woman indeed.”

“She’s one of the best people I know.” Silver mutters. He looks in the direction of the governor’s house, but he’s presumed too much on Madi’s kindness lately. Even though he thinks she and Thomas would get along, their meeting can wait for another day.

They continue strolling through the town.

At last they come to a tavern and Silver pauses, touching Thomas’s sleeve. “Let’s take a moment and get in out of the sun.”  He nods at the tavern door. He needs a drink and to sit for a while.

Thomas obliges him and they get a table in the corner.

Silver sits back with a sigh, glad to be in the cool dark of the tavern. Thomas looks around with interest.

A pretty blonde tavern maid comes up to them. “What can I get you?”

“Two pints of ale.” Silver says.

“Be right back with that.” She smiles at Thomas and goes off to the counter.

There’s a moment of silence. Silver tries to think of something to say and at last gives up. It won’t kill them to sit in silence.

The barmaid comes back with their pints and sets them down. She gives Thomas a wink and goes off again.

“Was that meant for me?” Thomas asks after a moment. “Or does she think we’re together?”

Silver chokes on his ale. “I’m sorry. What?”

“That wink.” Thomas says in all seriousness. “I’m sorry, it’s been a while since someone I’ve had someone flirt with me.”

“It was definitely meant for you.” Silver takes another sip of ail. “Have you looked at me?”

He means it and he doesn’t, it’s self-deprecating, it doesn’t matter, but he doesn’t expect Thomas to sit back and give him a contemplative look. After a few moments during which Thomas just keeps looking at him and doesn’t speak, Silver grows uncomfortable and changes the subject.

 “Now that you’ve seen more of it, what do you truly make of Nassau?” Silver asks.

 “It’s fascinating.” Thomas says after a moment. “It’s truly different than what I expected, like I said. But in a way, I think it’s better.” He falls silent.

“Are you going to leave here?” Silver asks abruptly. He didn’t mean to ask, but he can’t help it. He needs to know. He’s bitter and tries not to show it, but it comes out in spite of himself.

“I don’t know.” Thomas says honestly. “I think that mostly depends on James.” His eyes rest on Silver with another contemplative stare.

Silver takes a drink of his ale and ignores what that stare might mean, what any of this might mean.

“Can you imagine James anywhere other than here?” Thomas asks.

Silver skims his thumb along the rim of his ale glass.  “I don’t know. Can you?”

Thomas shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know.” He looks at Silver again and there are other questions in his eyes, questions Silver’s not prepared to answer, or avoid frankly.

“The afternoon is drawing on. We should be on our way.” Silver reaches for his crutch.

Thomas nods and rises. He takes out his purse.

“You don’t have to.” Silver starts.

“It would be my pleasure,” Thomas begins.

Silver shrugs. “Fine.” He’s not going to argue over who pays.

Thomas leaves the coins on the table and turns and bumps straight into a large man walking past him.

“My apologies.” Thomas says politely, trying to move past him, but the man steps into his space with a menacing stare.

“Watch where you’re going.” The man growls.

“I apologized.” Thomas points out in a civil enough voice.

“Smart mouth, eh?” The man’s eyes sweeps over Thomas with a sneer. “What’s a dandy like you even doing in a place like this?”

Silver pushes himself in front of Thomas before he can speak again. “Now, friend, why don’t you be on your way before you do something you might possibly regret?”

The man takes in his presence for the first time. “John Silver, as though we’ve forgotten you.” He raises his hand and Silver brushes it aside casually with his crutch.

“Well, I had hoped you might have.”

The second time, the man gets a punch in. Silver stumbles backward and wipes the blood from his mouth. He shrugs. 

“It’s a pity your memory is so intact.” He brings his crutch up higher and swipes the man in the face.

Thomas winces as the man crumples. “Was that necessary?”

“We’ll soon find out.” Silver turns sharply as the man’s companions move towards them. “Get behind me.”

“I can fight my own battles, thank you.” Thomas murmurs.

They’re surrounded quickly and Silver’s forced to take Thomas at his word. There’s no chance of anything else. Silver draws his dagger which he still carries these days, thanks to Flint’s training. Thomas has no weapon on him, but he’s handling himself adequately. Silver has to admire the way he throws a punch; he hadn’t expected Thomas to be able to defend himself, let alone actually fight.

His admiration costs him his own defense and he takes a blow to the stomach that knocks his crutch out of reach. The first man looms over him, moving in to kick him again, and then Thomas is there, between him and Silver. 

“Stand down, all of you.” The words ring out and everyone freezes. Max stands there on the balcony, surveying the scene below her with an expression of slightly bored irritation.

Silver closes his eyes in relief.

Thomas helps him to his feet, and brings him his crutch.

Max sails down the stairs and looks at all of them. “You will stop this at once and you will leave.” She fixes the brawlers with a hard stare. “If you do not, the watch will be here within minutes and you will not enjoy the repercussions of your lingering. Now. Get. Out.”

They flee the tavern without another word, stumbling over each other in their haste to leave.

Max turns her attention to Silver and Thomas next with a sigh. “I suppose I should have expected no better from you, Silver.”

Silver has the grace to look sheepish.

“But you.” Max looks at Thomas curiously. “Who the fuck are you? And why are you causing trouble in my establishment?”

Thomas holds out his hand. “Thomas Hamilton, madame. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Max accepts his hand with an amused expression. “I am pleased to meet you too, Monsieur Hamilton. And I confess, I am slightly surprised at finding you in such company.”

Silver makes a rude face at her and Max responds with a crude gesture automatically.

“Mr. Silver has been kind enough to show me about the island.” Thomas explains. “I’ve wanted to see Nassau for a long time.”

“I see.” Max said with a knowing look at Silver who gazes back at her with an entirely innocent expression.

“Now, if you don’t mind we’ll be on our way.” Silver starts edging towards the door.

“Ah, just wait a moment.” Max holds up a hand. “You’re not going anywhere, Monsieur Silver,” she makes a lilting mockery of his name, “without making restitution for the damages you incurred.”

Silver sighs. “I’ll pay you soon enough, just not today.”

Max smiles sweetly at him. “Would you perhaps like to stay the night in the fort? The watch would be more than happy to take you into custody. All I have to do is snap my fingers and-”

“That’s a fine way to repay me after all the times I’ve helped you.” Silver hisses.

“How much are the damages?” Thomas interrupts.

“Ten gold pieces.” Max says, her glare still focuses on Silver.

Thomas takes out his purse from his pocket again and counts out the amount and gives it to her. “I trust that will clear Mr. Silver’s reputation.”

“Of this small incident, yes.” Max says. “Of his reputation in general, not so much.”

Silver snorts, but says nothing further.

*  *  *

They start walking back. By now Silver’s ready to go back to bed and just stay there. He's exhausted and frankly the thought of Flint and Thomas leaving the island is causing him to feel melancholy.

"Thank you for back there.” He says when they've been walking in silence for a while.

“Thank you for defending me in the first place.” Thomas returns. He pauses, and then. “Will you come home with me and take supper with us?”

Silver thinks about it as they walk. If he goes home to the shack, his options for the evening meal are stale bread and wine. If he accepts the invitation, he’ll see Flint with Thomas. But at least he'll get to see him.

 “If you’re sure.” He mutters.

“Of course.” Thomas assures him.

Silver nods. “I’ll repay you for what you paid Max.” He says, carefully not saying when.

“There’s no need.” Thomas says quietly.

Silver sighs, but doesn’t argue. He should have known Thomas would take that attitude.

 *  *  *

The cottage looks similar to that first night when Silver first arrived to tell Thomas of Flint’s proximity. It’s his turn to look around as Thomas hangs up his coat.

It’s a civilized home, with a broad table and a shelf with china on it, as well as a few books. Silver looks at them for a long time, and then at the doorway that must lead to the bedroom. The door is closed so he can't see the bedroom. He imagines it though.

“James will be home soon.” Thomas tells him as he sets the table for dinner. It’s simple enough fare, but still more fine than what Silver’s used to. There’s fresh bread and smoked fish, a thick slab of cheese and a small dish of mangoes.

“Please, have a seat and I’ll get some wine.”

Silver does, glad to be off his crutch at last. It’s been a very long day. He feels jittery just at being there, knowing Flint will return at any moment.

Thomas returns with a bottle of wine and pours them each a decent glass.

“Thank you.”  Silver takes a sip.

“Thank you for indulging my request to show me around the town.” Thomas says in return.

Silver shrugs. “You should get to know the island if you’re considering living here.” They’ve been dancing around the subject all day. Will they stay here, will they go somewhere else? Somewhere in there, Silver’s found he’s started to hope they will stay because how is he to bear the thought of Flint elsewhere? But how is he supposed to bear the thought of him here, but apart from him if they stay? It’s that which bothers him, he’s coming to realize, not Flint being with Thomas. It’s Flint’s absence from _him_ that tears at his heart.

He takes another gulp of wine.

“Meeting that taverness was…intriguing.” Thomas says. “I'd heard tales of her as well. Though I confess, I hadn’t expected that meeting to happen in quite those circumstances.”

 “Ah, yes." Silver murmurs. "Best not to tell Flint about the brawl.” 

“Oh?” Thomas cocks his head, looking at him. “Why’s that?”

“He won’t be happy knowing you went into town with me, let alone got into a bar fight.” Silver takes another deep sip of wine. He’s not really prepared to encounter Flint here in this space, with Thomas present. Maybe this was all a mistake.

There’re footsteps on the porch and Thomas looks at Silver before the door opens.

The door opens and Silver looks up quickly to see Flint standing there, eyeing him. He sits back in his chair and nods to him civilly enough.

“Good evening.”

“What’s he doing here?” Flint hesitates in the doorway, clearly unwilling to enter.

“I invited him to stay for dinner.” Thomas informs him calmly. “Come in and close the door. There’s a storm brewing.”

Flint scowls but does so. “It’s starting to rain.” He tells the room at large.

“That’s why I told you to close the door.” Thomas mutters.

Silver snickers before he can help it.

Flint looks at him sharply and he hides his expression behind his wine.

“I’ll get you some wine.” Thomas goes into the kitchen to fetch a third glass.

“What are you doing here?” Flint hisses as he circles the table to face Silver. 

“Thomas was civil enough to invite me to dinner.” Silver informs him. If it wasn’t for his own nerves, he might almost relax and enjoy Flint’s obvious discomfort.

“Is this what the two of you do now when I’m not around?” Flint grips the back of his chair, gazing at Silver. “Meet each other and spend the hours in conversation?”

“What are we supposed to do?” Silver shrugs. “Since you don't seem to be speaking much to either of us?”

Flint glowers. "I tried last night and you wouldn't let me." He's about to say something further when they both look up to see Thomas in the doorway.

Thomas raises his eyebrows at them, coming over to the table. “By all means, continue.” He sets a glass on the table and pours Flint some wine as he takes his seat at the head of the table. 

Flint takes his chair reluctantly, sitting across from Silver. “How did this invitation to dinner come about?” Flint takes a sip of wine.

“Actually, I asked him yesterday, and he refused,” Thomas says, “But as Silver was good enough to show me around town this afternoon, I thought it only fair to offer a second an invitation and this time he kindly accepted.”

Flint stares at him incredulously and then turns his gaze on Silver “Why did you take him into town!”

“Because if he’s going to decide where the two of you settle, he has a right to see what’s here.” Silver informs him. “And forgive me, if I want it to be here.” _Near me._ He manages not to say the last two words aloud but the damage is already done. He flushes at his admission, turning his attention back to his wine.

Flint licks his lips and looks to Thomas. “That’s a conversation I know we need to...I mean, it will take time. We’ll need to determine what we can afford and where...” He hesitates, looking at Silver almost anxiously. 

“I know that.” Thomas murmurs. “But we can afford a home wherever we want, James..”

“How’s that?” Flint demands.

Silver looks back and forth from them, wishing he weren’t here for this conversation, yet unable to look away from the scene. Why is it always his lot to be there for their painfully intimate moments?

“Why with the title and…” Thomas’s words trail off at Flint’s expression.

“I don’t understand.” Flint says slowly. “The title went to you in the end?”

“Whatever act of fate took my father from this world caused that.” Thomas shrugs. “After that I couldn’t go back to London… I couldn’t bear to be there without you and Miranda, so Peter persuaded me to go to Savannah.”

“Savannah?” Flint repeats in surprise. "Why Savannah?" 

Silver takes a sip of wine. He should be surprised they haven’t discussed this yet, not told each other this story yet, but somehow he’s not even remotely surprised.

“There’s a plantation there where the unwanted of the world are tucked away to be forgotten.” Thomas’s voice grows very low, like he's a hundred miles away in his head. “Peter had tried to have my father send me there instead of Bethlem, but he refused to budge on that point.” His hand tightens on the side of the table.

“Anyway, it was a good place to be after getting released from the hospital. I started a small school amongst the people held there and would have passed my days quite peacefully there, but…”

“But what?” Flint asks.

Thomas raises his eyes to meet his gaze. “Then I heard of Peter’s death and of Captain Flint’s hand in it.”

Flint’s eyes closed briefly before he forces himself to open them again.

“And I inquired a little more into Captain Flint, and I realized who he was.” Thomas moves his hand away from the table, letting go of it. “So I packed what little belongings I had, left Savannah and purchased passage to Nassau to find him.” He gives a little laugh. “And here I am.”

“What did you make of that knowledge?” Flint asks softly. “That I killed Peter?”

Thomas tenses for a moment and then, “I was…distressed at first, but I trusted there was a reason behind it. I want to know the full story, James.”

"He betrayed you." Flint's voice is flat and even. "And when Miranda confronted him about his betrayal, one of his men shot her." He swallows tightly. 

Thomas's posture is stiff as he takes in this knowledge. "I wondered...I wanted to believe it was something else, but somehow I had a feeling it was something like that." 

“And your father?” Flint asks after a moment.

“What?”

Flint gives Silver a helpless look. Silver shakes his head quickly. This is something Thomas never has to know. But he knows Flint won’t be able to keep the knowledge of his deed to himself any longer.

“It was me.” Flint’s voice grows small and it’s James again in that instance, even Silver recognizes him then.

“What?” Thomas looks at him closely.

“It was me...who killed him.” James looks down at his hands as though he could still see the blood. “I did it. Miranda found out what ship he was…I tracked him. I hunted him. and I killed him.” He draws a deep shuddering breath. 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Thomas whispers.

James shakes his head helplessly. “I thought…I thought you would be angry.”

“You thought I would be angry…” Thomas repeats as though he doesn't understand them.

“He was your father.” James says. “For all that he was, he was still your father and I killed him.”

“He was a vindictive cruel man.” Thomas  rises to his feet. “And I don’t give a fuck that you killed him. I love you.” He goes over to James and kisses him there in front of Silver, passionate hands drawing James closer to him.

Silver has sat there for all of this, but now, seeing their kiss, he knows it's time for him to go. He grabs for his crutch and heads for the door.

 *  *  *

Flint breaks off at the sound of the door closing. “Where’d he go? It’s pouring out there.”

He goes to the door and pulls the door open, but there’s no sign of him in the rainy night. “Damn it.”

He stands there, torn between going after Silver and leaving it there for tonight. When he turns around, Thomas has moved to stand by the fireplace.

“Admit it.” Thomas murmurs, his eyes steady as he looks at James.

“What?”

“Admit it!” Thomas nearly shouts. “Just admit that you want him too.” He catches his breath. “That’s all I want you to do, James. Is it so hard? For christ's sake, you just confessed you killed my father, but you can't tell me you care for another?”

James just stares at him, his face growing pale. “What're you saying?”

“James, I consider myself a very patient man and I thought I could wait for you to tell me whatever’s between you and Silver, but the days pass and every day you still haven’t told me.”

James has grown very still against the tightly controlled calmness in Thomas's voice. 

Thomas sighs. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I know ten years is a long time…” He turns to James with pleading in his eyes. “But could you just tell me?”

When there's no answer, Thomas sighs. “Very well then, I’m going to bed.”

He goes into the bedroom, undresses and get into bed. He dims the lamp and lies there, waiting.

Finally James comes into the bedroom. Thomas listens to the sound of him undressing. The bed dips as James gets into bed.

“I was alone for a long time.” James says softly.

Thomas turns his head, listening.

“I never dreamed of finding someone else after you. I had Miranda through the darkest days and we held on to each other through our grief, but just existing without you made the days hard and hollow.” He swallows tightly. “I resented her at times for being the one still alive, just as I think she resented me for not being you.”

“And then I lost her too. After that I thought I had nothing left to desire. And then one night I looked across a room and caught the eyes of my quartermaster and I realized that I was wrong.”

The room is so dark. Thomas wishes he could see James’s face as he speaks.

“Of course it wasn’t the same, nothing would ever be the same as what we have. We’re different people, but having Silver…” His voice drifts softer. “I was alive again.”

“Do you think I don’t understand?” Thomas turns over and reaches for him. “Do you think I’m not glad?” His hands clasp James’s face with fierce affection. “I am grateful to him.”

“But I should be able to put him aside.” James whispers, his voice tortured and morose in the dark, “I have that which I wanted more than anything in the world, you returned to me. I should be able to move forward and not look back.”

Thomas laughs softly, startling both of them. “Really? After the last ten years, you think that's something you'd be able to do easily?”

It takes James a moment and then he starts laughing faintly as well.

Thomas cradles his face in his hands. “Do you think you’d be the man I loved if you were able to do that?”

James remains silent, as Thomas traces the curve of his jaw lovingly.

“You have another love.” Thomas’s fingertips stroke his face. “You are loved by another. That’s not a crime, James. And I won’t have you torturing yourself over it.”

He kisses James’s mouth, a tender passionate meeting of lips that makes James tremble down to his thighs. “Go to him tomorrow. Tell him he’s not lost you just because I am here.”

James’s hands grip his arms as he struggles to understand what Thomas is offering him. “Are you sure?”

“Do you think I can bear you to be unhappy? We have such few chances to be truly happy in this world. We must take them as we find them.” He kisses James again.

 *  *  *

The next morning dawns cool and gray.

Flint’s stride is steady as he journeys to the shack where Silver and he have made their home for the last year and a half.

When he reaches the shack he pauses outside the door for a moment, considering what he’s about to do, what Silver will make of it.

Then he pushes the door open and stops at the sight in front of him.

“Silver.”

Silver pauses at the sound of his voice and then shoves his other shirt inside the leather satchel sitting on the bed before turning to face Flint. “Yes?”

Flint takes in the satchel, the coat resting beside it. “Going somewhere?”

Silver shrugs lightly. “There's a ship setting sail soon. I’m not sure when I’ll be back to be honest. I’ve always had a longing to see France.”

The shack isn’t large. Flint closes the distance between them with a few broad strides. “Were you going to say farewell?” _Were you going to leave without a single fucking word to me?_

“I didn’t see much point.” Silver says. “Not after last night.”

“You always were an idiot.” Flint says, but the fire isn’t there, that wretched raw heat that first drew Silver in. These words are affectionate on Flint’s tongue.

Silver merely looks at him with confused eyes and Flint simply clasps him by the back of the neck and kisses him. Silver lets him, lets Flint inside, the want surging inside him as he falls into the kiss until he feels Flint press hard against him, until he remembers.

He draws off, his lips tingling from Flint’s mouth. “What about Thomas?”

“What about him?”

Silver steps back a little. “Did you tell him you were coming here?”

“He knows.” Flint’s thumb strokes down the side of his neck.

“I was right about that much at least.” Silver murmurs. He looks up at Flint. “What’s this about then?”

“You said I didn’t have to say anything, that you could tell I had made my choice.” Now there’s bitterness to his words, but there’s also relief there, relief from having shed the weight he’s been carrying around for so long.

“You don’t have to say that.” Silver pulls back. He doesn’t need to hear Flint say it; he doesn’t _want_ to hear Flint say it. “Just don’t.”

“Silver.” Flint catches him. “Listen to me for a minute, damn it.”

“Why should I?” Silver’s belligerent. He doesn’t need to hear Flint tell him how much he loves Thomas, how it’s been good enough while Silver was there, but now he’s got his true love back and he’ll never want Silver in his bed again.

“Because I have something to say.”

Silver still jerks away and Flint shoves him hard up against the wall, holding him there. “You’ll listen to me even if I have to hold you here while you do it.”

“Very well.” Silver bites out. “Speak your piece and then get out.”

Flint’s hands grip his jacket. “I didn’t choose.”

The breath’s stolen from Silver’s lips, he doesn’t know what to say. The pain in his chest rises, tight and sharp, stabbing at him intimately. He doesn’t dare hope that Flint will say he loves him. They don’t say those kinds of words to each other. Thomas is the one he loved; Thomas is the one he loves.

“I’m not going to choose.” Flint whispers. “I’m not made to choose between those I love.”

Silver’s frozen, caught helplessly in the declaration he never expected to hear, never even hoped of hearing Flint say those words.

Flint examines his face and then leans down to set his lips to Silver’s. “Say something.” His mouth is tentative on Silver’s lips.

Silver swallows, the motion tight in his throat. “And Thomas is accepting of this?”

“I had forgotten the kind of man I loved, the generous accepting kind man I love who taught me the world doesn’t have to be empty and cruel. The world can be bigger than that.” His fingers stroke Silver’s face. “I would keep both of you, if you’ll let me.”

Silver licks his lips and tries to think of something that will make sense, anything, other than the words desperate to be proclaimed on his lips. “If you’ll have me.”

Flint’s smile is something precious to behold. He clasps Silver’s face in his broad hands and kisses him hard, sending flares of sparks dancing through his blood again. Silver groans into his mouth and then they’re reaching for each other, pressing hotly against each other’s bodies. Silver still has his back to the wall, and Flint’s got a knee between his thighs, pressing just enough to tease.

Silver groans again, louder this time. There’s not another person for miles; he doesn’t have to be quiet here and he knows it drives Flint wild to hear him.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“How do you want it?” Flint growls.

“Just fuck me.” Silver leans into him. He’s missed Flint so much these last few days. Has it only been a few days? The whole world can change in the span of a blink of an eye.

He presses his mouth to Flint’s, needing more, needing Flint’s hands on his body.

Flint tilts his head back and sucks hungrily at Silver’s neck as his fingers work Silver’s breeches open.

Silver gasps as Flint takes him in hand, stroking him from base to head.

“Enough. I want you to fuck me.” Silver tells him. “It’s been nothing but me and my hand since you…”

“Is that right?” Flint sounds amused. “And what were you thinking of?” He pushes Silver down on their bed and starts pulling his clothes off.

Silver works his breeches off and lies back only in his shirt. “You.” He admits. His nudity doesn't bother him; it's the vulnerability that's stripped him bare like this.  

Flint grins as he gets his breeches off and tosses them aside. He reaches for the oil they keep on a low shelf near the bed. He crouches over Silver as he slicks his fingers. “Is that right?”

Silver rolls his eyes and then gasps again as Flint presses a finger inside him. He spreads his legs with a sigh. Christ, he’s missed this. He’d thought he’d never feel Flint’s touch again and now here they are.

His teeth graze his lower lip as Flint adds another finger, moving in him with blunt, desperate strokes.

“What are you waiting for?”Silver murmurs. “I want you in me now.”

Flint finally removes his fingers, Silver braces himself as Flint pushes in slowly, gazing down at Silver with studied precision, still taking his damn time.

Silver runs a hand up his chest, pinching at one of his nipples. “Come on and fuck me.”

Flint acquiesces, pulling out and thrusting into him again, making Silver groan with the force of it. Flint’s fingers dig into his hips, holding him at just the right angle.

Silver reaches for him, tugging him closer as Flint hits his stride. His thrusts grow faster, rocking his hips as he fucks into Silver. Silver arches his back and matches his thrusts with equal energy.

He gazes up at Flint with heat in his eyes, “come here.” He whispers, drawing Flint’s face down to kiss his mouth, Flint sucks greedily on Silver’s lip, dragging it between his teeth, making Silver groan.

They move like that together, holding each other close. Silver’s not sure which of them starts to finish first, he just knows that he loses himself in the sweet trembling of Flint’s body pressed against his own, the stretch and thrust of Flint’s cock filling him to completeness, and Flint’s mouth on him, kissing him until he’s lost to the world.

 *  *  *

Later when he’s lying beside Flint in bed, tracing his fingers over the freckles on his shoulders, Silver thinks again of the gift he’s been given. All too soon his mind starts wondering on the day to day workings. Will Flint go back and forth between their houses as he pleases? What will he expect Silver to do? 

“Stop thinking so loudly.” Flint murmurs drowsily. “It will work out.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” Silver asks, amused.

“Because I would be thinking the same thoughts in your place.” Flint turns on his side to look at him. “Because I _have_ thought the same thoughts in your place. How will this work between us? Will I be equal or will I be unwanted in certain moments?” His fingertips skim over Silver’s cheekbone, down the line of his jaw.

“And how was that?”

“Torture at times.” Flint admits. “I never wanted to leave his side, never wanted to return to my rooms alone. But that was London and we had to pretend things were other than what we wanted. This isn’t London. We can do whatever the fuck we want."

He sits up, drawing a knee up as he lean his back against the wall. “There will be moments where you might be jealous, or think you don’t mean as much as you do. Don’t listen to those doubts, they’re not truth.”

“So you’re saying I matter to you.” Silver says it lightly. He still wants to hear Flint say, even though he’s definitely as good as said it. Just once he’d like to hear him say the words.

Flint looks down at him. “You little shit.” It’s affectionate; it’s teasing, it’s loving. It makes Silver’s heart glow.

Flint swings over to straddle him, and then he simply lies atop Silver, pressing the full length of his body along Silver’s. “Do you want me to say how my thoughts drift to you throughout the day? That I sometimes ache with the wanting of you? That I see a dark-haired head of curls in the street and my breath quickens and my cock hardens, and then I wilt because it’s not you?”

Silver wets his lips. “Something like that.”

Flint grins down at him. “Or do you simply want to hear that I love you?”

Silver’s breath stills. He stares up at Flint in pure disbelief. 

“Because I do. Very dearly.” Flint brushes his mouth over Silver’s. “You are precious to me.”

Silver gazes up at him in wonder. “You truly mean that.”

“Of course I do.” Flint tells him. “And you?” He’s waiting for something, and Silver’s lost.

He had thought it obvious, that the entire fucking island knew that he loved Flint, and now he knows it’s been his fault as much as Flint’s for not speaking of it before. It’s Thomas who’s done this, who let this happen between them, and Silver knows he owes the man a debt he will never be able to repay. For now he can hardly bear the happiness within him.

“I love you so much I can hardly breathe.” He murmurs. “I don’t know how it happened, or why, but somehow you've become the thing that matters most in my life and I never want to lose that.”

Flint’s lips descend upon his, drawing Silver into a kiss that rolls through him like a storm, catching him in its wild depths, and he never wants to be set free.


End file.
